Carousel
by Streaks of Hail
Summary: "It just kind of stuck, I suppose. Now it just represents safety. A place where people can go to relieve themselves of their hardships. A place to shield themselves from the cruelty of the real world, I guess." FitzSimmons, Circus AU.
1. Carousel

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**: Something I've been tossing around with for a while. Hopefully it's kind of interesting? I do have a lot planned for this story, but we'll see how it goes, I suppose. It was originally meant to be a one-shot, but then it kind of just spiralled, I guess. Keep in mind that I've never been to a circus, so all this waffle is pretty much just picked up from books and such. Not to mention, I really can't quite seem to makemy mind up on the time-line. Orginally I wanted it to be a more further set back thing, but then laptops and TV's came into play, so feel free to envision whichever time you so desire.

**SUMMARY: **

"So, why do you call it SHIELD?"

"It just kind of stuck, I suppose. Now it just represents safety. A place where people can go to relieve themselves of their hardships. A place to shield themselves from the cruelty of the real world, I guess."

"Sounds nice."

**_CAROUSEL_**

_Round and round like a horse on a carousel, we go,_

_will I catch up to love? I could never tell, I know,_

The first time he sees her is one of glamour.

She's poised elagantly atop of a pure white horse, spangles twisting delicately around her body and a radiant smile spread easily across her features. Her moves are graceful as she twirls and leaps and performs stunning tricks to the easily-impressed crowd, all while on the back of a snowy horse.

She twirls ribbons and it's almost like a dance, what with the ease that she twists and turns. The crowd roars and someone is even daring enough to throw her a scarlet red rose. She catches it as she gallops past, leaving behind her a trail of glitter and ribbons and refinery.

Leopold Fitz, however, is less than refined. He's sitting in one of the farthest rows to the back, stuck with the people who don't quite have enough money for the comfort of sitting, with sawdust and bad body odour clogging up his senses. Not to mention that it's not the cleanest of places either - he's seen at least three lots of rubbish left strewn on the floor, whether it be dropped cotton candy, forgotten popcorn or abandoned drinks. It's not a pleasant place to be, at any rate.

But Skye had wanted to go, so attend he had. Why Skye's so infatuated with the circus, he's never really known. To him, circuses are places where rather scary looking clowns attempt to humour giggling little children, where droopy acrobats fling themselves from ridiculously high heights for the pleasure of others.

Skye claims it's the sense of magic, but Fitz has never really believed in such things. Hence his dislike for the hot, humid air of the circus tent - or for the bloody things in general, actually.

But when the pretty woman in spangles makes an appearance, he halts all judgements on this particular circus.

As if sensing his thoughts, Skye gives a little smile from beside him. "She's good, right? Rumours say that she's half the reason this circus is so popular. Apparently she's got a lot of admirers hankering after her." As if to prove her point, she nodded down to one of the lower aisles, where some young adults were clustered with wide eyes, as if they were thrilled just to be seeing her in action.

"I don't see what's so special about her," Fitz says, all while noting the woman's spectacular acrobatics at the same time.

Skye just nudges him in the shoulder and points to the sign propped up next to the ringleader with enthusiasm. "They call her Lady Star Spangles."

...

When the acts finally finish up and the circus begins to pack up, Skye tugs on his arm and offers him her very best puppy-eyes, pleading for some fairy-floss. Fitz has always found it particuarly hard to say no to Skye, so they end up breaking off from the majority of the crowds (who are trudging off to see the more exciting aspects of the fair, no doubt) and making their way to the nearest stall.

The woman working the machine is kind and lets them have the treat for a bit less than normal, and they sit at a park bench and munch on the fluffy pink sweet happily enough.

"I don't get what's so spectacular about the circus," Fitz grumbles (yet again) as he tears a wad from his own ball of fairy-floss and shoves it in his mouth.

"I don't know how to explain it," Skye muses, kicking her legs back and forth along the ground like a little girl. "But it's kind of.. magical, I guess."

"Magical, yes." A sudden voice pipes up from behind them, and both Skye and Fitz whirl around to look at the speaker guiltily. He's surprised to find that it's that horse-rider from earlier - Lady Star-Spangles. _What a ridiculous name_, he snorts to himself. Her hair's dropped loosely around her shoulders like she's just preparing to hop into a shower, and she's still breathing rather heavily from exertion.

"That's one way to describe the circus," she continues with a smile, and tugs a worn brown jacket around her costume. She looks almost odd with her heavily made-up face and her glittered hair, combined with the rather shabby coat.

When Fitz only blinks blankly, Skye decides to take the opportunity to gush. "Hello! I'm Skye, this is Fitz. You were really good back in there," she chatters easily, abandoning her fairy-floss easily. He almost feels affronted.

"Thank you," she smiles again, this time in a more kindly fashion. "I'm Jemma. But you'll probably know me as Spangles. And I'm glad you liked it, but.." at this pause, she shifts uncomfortably, her eyes raking over the park bench, "this area is restricted for visitors. Performers and workers only, I'm afraid. Unless you're new around here?" She tilts her head in questioning, but Skye is quick to correct her.

"Uh, no, sorry. We just thought that it was open to anyone," Skye amends hurriedly.

"They could have bloody-well signed it better," Fitz mumbles grumpily, expecting a rude retort in response. Instead, she laughs, her eyes crinkling at him warmly.

"So I keep telling Coulson. Unfortunately, the circus is a busy place, and we've barely got enough time to look after the animals, let alone peg up signs," she sighs, not unpleasantly. "Everything's falling apart - and Mack's been too ill to do anything helpful lately."

"We can help," Skye says unexpectedly. "Fitz knows his way around mechanical things pretty well, and I'm pretty good at organisation. Or, I could help with the animals."

"Skye!" Fitz yelps in sudden alarm. What does she think she's doing, signing them up for more work at a circus, of all places?

"Oh, c'mon, Fitz," she sighs exasperatedly, rolling he eyes at him. "You said yourself just the other day that you were running out of things to do!" This, Fitz has to concede grudgingly, was true. "Besides, it's the _circus_, Fitz! You can't tell me that you're going to pass this up."

Watching them with a slightly bewildered expression, the woman (or Jemma, as he corrects himself quickly) gives a tiny shrug of her shoulders. "That's a really sweet offer," she says, and she actually sounds genuine. "And we certainly need the help around here. But Coulson is the one in charge."

"But I'm the one in charge of him," quips a calm voice, and suddenly, from seemingly nowhere a woman in a tight black cat-suit appears. Almost like magic, actually. Her eyes rake down him and Skye, and Fitz suddenly gets the strange urge to smarten himself up. He gets the feeling that this woman is clearly not the kind to smile and offer him biscuits. She looks like she means business.

"May!" Jemma jumps lightly in surprise, shifting aside quickly to make room for the other woman. She throws a reassuring smile in Fitz and Skye's direction, before addressing the woman again. "This is Skye and Fitz. I was just telling them about the restricted area when the subject of jobs came up, and they both offered to give an extra hand. Have you seen Coulson anywhere? I was thinking about asking him about it-"

"Are you ready to work in a circus?" May cuts off, raking her gaze down Fitz and Skye with expressionless features.

"Of course we are," Skye puts in determinedly, before Fitz can even stop her. Uneasiness prickles through him. Does he really want to work in a circus? He doesn't even like the bloody shows, for god's sake. But Skye looks so ready to hurl herself into the world of acrobats and jugglers that he can't really turn down. After all, it's kind of his duty to protect her. When they were little, he'd made friends with her on a field trip to the orphanage. Although she was free from that now, he had sort of adopted her as a little sister.

"I guess," he mumbles with a tiny shrug, and by the way that Skye nudges him, she's pleased with his answer.

"Good," May nods. "You start tomorrow."

"What?" Jemma's clearly bewildered, and she opens her mouth cautiously to address the older woman about it. "Excuse me, but surely you have to check with Coulson first?"

"I told you," May supplies, and for the first time since Fitz has seen her, there's a glimmer of a smile on her lips, "Coulson may be the boss of the circus, but I'm the boss of him."

...

It's when they're sharing some messily thrown together dinner (it's days like this when Fitz misses living with his mum; he and Skye can't cook to save their lives) that he confronts Skye about his hesitancy to work at the circus.

Skye peers at him from over her steaming mug of coffee (she can't stand his tea, and he can't stand her coffee) and merely laughs at him. "Come on, Fitz! It'll be fun, I promise. When else do you get such a good working opportunity?"

Fitz shrugs at that, stirring a spoon around and around in his own mug of tea. The truth is, he probably could get another job if he tried. Despite the fact that he doesn't like to toot his own horn, the simple fact is that he's.. well, he's intelligent. Outshone everyone else in his class from a young age, and only continued picking up pace until he was placed in classes with people two, three, four years older than him.

In fact, he's rather pleased to say that he had rather baffled the teachers at his school. In class, he never paid attention. Was always sleeping or daydreaming or something equally silly. His assignments were always late, his work barely acceptable and his books filled woth bored little doodles. Despite this, he always seemed to score high results in his tests. Teachers had often encouraged him to try harder with much enthusiasm (and most of the time, irritation at his irresponsibility), but the simple fact was that he had never really cared.

But Fitz can't really tell Skye all this, of course. At any rate, she looks so excited that he can hardly refuse. Anyway, what wrong can it do? There's no harm in getting some more money, either. The Fitzs have never been a wealthy lot.

"Besides," Skye teases, waggling a spoon at him in a cheerful manner, "I heard that they have monkeys there."

Fitz smiles at that. Skye full well knows about his obsession with monkeys. "I can't believe you voluntarily signed us up for work."

"Hey," Skye giggles, holding up her hands in defence, "it won't be that bad! Anyway, it's a travelling circus. They won't hang around forever. You'll be free of them in no time."

_They won't hang around forever_, Fiz reassures himself. _You'll be free of them in no time._

And then he allows himself to laugh with Skye.

...

The next day they rise bright and early and trudge down to the circus. It's freezing and the sky is darkened grey with the ominous swelling of approaching rain, and Fitz is hating Skye's suggestion more than ever at the current moment. While he's grumpy and grumbling, Skye can't seem anymore excited, grinning and pointing out various people with exclamations such as 'look, there was the guy who just about got trampled by that elephant', or 'hey, wasn't she the girl who looked like she was about to split open her pants?'.

Absent nods are all she gets, because suddenly a family face is making a bee-line for them. It's Jemma, the elegant horse-rider from the night before, but this time with an important (but friendly) looking man at her side. Her face is void of make-up and her hair's curled loosely around her shoulders, but she still looks as graceful as ever in her leotard.

"Fitz, Skye!" She calls, and soon even Skye's attention is focused solely on the two approaching people. Eventually, they both slow to a halt in front, and Jemma gestures to the man beside her with an expression that almost matches nervousness. "This is Mr Phil Coulson," she introduces politely, "He's the ringleader of the circus, and my boss."

"But you can just call me Coulson," the man interjects with a friendly smile.

"Leopold Fitz," he supplies hurriedly, wincing at the mere sound of his first name. He's always hated the name Leopold, it's the one thing he wishes his mother had done differently. "But I'd rather be called Fitz."

"Fitz it is then," Coulson nods easily, turning to Skye expectantly.

She shifts uneasily from one foot to the other, suddenly looking a whole lot more subdued than earlier. "Skye," she answers. "Just Skye."

It's then that Fitz feels sorry for her, as much as he knows she wouldn't want him to. He knows that life hasn't been the kindest to her - she's been abandoned by her parents, thrown in an orphanage. Not even lucky enough to have many friends, nor the simple luxury of a last name.

"Welcome to SHIELD, then," Coulson grins. "Jemma, you'll show them around?"

...

"So, why do they call it SHIELD?" Skye questions curiously. Coulson has disappeared somewhere - he'd claimed that he had some other business to attend to - leaving him and Skye with Jemma, who looks more at ease now that her boss is gone. They're currently on an extensive tour of the circus grounds, with Jemma pointing out this and that as they pass various pegged tents and closed stalls. It's too early for people to start arriving (they hold shows in the evenings, mainly, Jemma explains), so it's not as packed as it was the night before.

Fitz wants to reprimand Skye for being so nosy and bold, but he has to admit that he's curious as well. Why_ is _it called SHIELD?

"It used to stand for something, back in the days of the old circus," Jemma says, seemingly more than happy to explain. "But that's been lost in translation ever since Fury handed over leadership to Coulson."

At their twin puzzled looks, Jemma goes on quickly. "Fury was the old ringleader. He was one of the most legendary ones, too. SHIELD thrived under his watch, we had customers upon the thousands booking in advance. But then.. something happened, and he vanished. Just like that, straight out of the blue. Nobody knows where he's gone," she shrugs, "but he only stayed long enough to pass leadership over to Coulson, and that's been what it's like ever since. His disappearance is supposed to be temporary, but he hasn't been seen in... well, a very long time. The rumours say that he's dead."

Fitz suddenly notes that Jemma is far more talkative than the night before, and more.. human seeming, if that's the correct way to describe it. Less like the agile, elegant creature out on the stage and more like a real person. Although she's still as much of a mystery as ever.

Skye's eyes widen just a fraction and she moves forward to stand next to Jemma, leaving Fitz to trail behind after them. "So you just kept the name SHIELD?" It's clear that his friend is greatly intrigued by the history of the circus.

"Yeah," the circus performer nods, "It's just kind of stuck, I suppose. Now it just represents safety. A place where people can go to relieve themselves of their hardships. A place to shield themselves from the cruelty of the real world, I guess."

Skye goes quiet all of a sudden. "Sounds nice."

And suddenly, the silence is deafening. After a few moments, Jemma jumps up awkwardly and announces in a far too cheerful voice, "Look, there's the food stall! Care for anything? It's all on me - the fairy-floss is really quite nice."

...

"This is where we keep the animals, generally," Jemma announces, leading them into a secluded part of the grounds far away from everyone else. Fitz, who is expecting cruel cages in where they keep the animals locked up, finds instead comfortable spaces for the animals. It's clear that they're being treated well, a fact which seems to delight Skye.

"Woah," she grins, advancing forward quickly. "Look, Fitz! They have monkeys!"

And she's right, there are monkeys. Five of them, all bright-eyed and cheeky-faced and.. fascinating. He can't help the grin that spreads across his features as together, they both step towards the creatures in wonder. Neither of them have seen something so exotic as a monkey up close, and being that Fitz has always marvelled at them from afar, this is an exciting moment for him.

"Don't get too close," a voice interrupts from behind them. "We haven't trained them not to steal yet."

Fitz and Skye whirl around guility (why does it seem like all circus folk can appear out of nowhere and sneak up on them?) to see a (annoyingly handsome, he admits grudgingly) man looking at them with his his eyebrows raised.

"They can steal?" Skye gawps, and Jemma laughs suddenly. The sound seems strange coming from someone as poised as her, but it does suit her.

"These monkeys can do anything," she informs with a proud smile. "This is Grant Ward. He's our resident animal care-taker, but he helps a lot with other stuff too. In fact, he's one of the lead acts, isn't he?" Jemma smiles brightly at Grant, but he only shrugs.

"You're that guy with the dog tricks, right?" Skye muses. As if on cue, a dark brown dog trots up to the trainers heels obediently and gives a gentle woof.

"This is Buddy," Grant Ward nods towards the canine, and Skye awwes at the dog for a moment.

"Fitz and Skye," Jemma introduces smoothly. "They're just some short-term hands to help around for a bit."

"Coulson approve?" Grant inquires easily, and Jemma nods. Fitz gets the impression that Grant isn't all too much of a socialiser, or at least not with Jemma.

"Of course," she retorts rather indignantly. "I'm just showing them around."

"How long are they here for?"

Fitz is starting to get annoyed at the way that they talk around them as if he and Skye aren't even there, but he clamps his mouth shut and listens politely anyway. If Skye wants to do this, than so be it. He's at least going to do it properly.

"For as long as we're here for," she replies tightly, moving off to leave. Fitz and Skye rise up to follow hurriedly, but before they can go, she halts and adds, "oh, I think Abu grabbed your wallet, Fitz."

There's nothing more mortifying than being shown up by a monkey, as he soon finds out.

...

Now they're sitting on the same wooden bench as the night before (now that they're workers they can sit here now, Jemma tells them proudly) with Fitz and Skye sharing some popcorn between them. They offer Jemma some, but she refuses politely. It's then that Fitz takes a moment to wonder how she keeps her physique up.

"And that over there," Jemma says obliviously, pointing to two men who are laughing with bottles in their hands, one who's ridculously tall and well-built, while the other is smaller and paler, "is Lance Hunter and Alphonso Mackenzie, but they're generally known as Hunter and Mack."

"What do they do?" Skye questions curiously, eyeing the two men with no shame. At Fitz's nudge, she holds out the box of popcorn and together they both reach for a handful to snack on.

_At least there's plenty of free popcorn_, Fitz reasons.

"Hunter used to be really good in the marching act, but he quit because of.. recent affairs with the band leader." Jemma shifts uncomfortably, but instead of seeming uneasy, Skye only appears to be more curious. "So now he does odd jobs. Helps with the animals, repairs, that sort of thing. Occasionally he steps up as a fill-in acrobat, but mostly he's in charge of the funds, along with Isabelle Hartley and Idaho. As for Mack, well.. he's our repairman. He fixes things around the place, helps to set up tents. Given his physique, well.." she flushes slightly at this, "it's clear he's quite an asset."

"If he can fix up things around here, why is everything still falling apart?" Fitz asks pointedly.

Jemma looks surprised, almost as if she'd forgotten that he was here. This, Fitz takes slight offence to. "It's a big circus. One man can't fix everything."

"I never said he could," he mutters defensively in return.

"What happened with Hunter and the marching band?" Skye queries hurriedly, her eyes glinting. Clearly, gossip intrigues her. Fitz, not so much. He's still uncomfortable. So far, the people have been nice enough.. but there's something strange about them. Not to mention that it's cold and dreary and that certainly puts a damper on his mood when his hands are cold and his coat is wearing thin.

"He had an affair with the leader - a woman named Bobbi Morse," Jemma explains. Apparently the cold affects her too, because she draws her own ragged jacket tighter around her and delves her hands into the pockets. Her eyes shine suddenly, and it's clear that she admires this certain Bobbi Morse. "You might know her by her stage name; Mockingbird."

"Tall, blonde, does that weird twirling thing with those sticks?" Skye quips. Obviously she remembers the acts a fair bit more than Fitz does, but even he can remember that particular one. It hadn't been so much of a marching band (as Jemma had so eloquently put it), but a band of talented gymnasts and dancers. There is no proper way to describe it (at least, not in Fitz's mind) but there had been quite a lot of complicated backflips and twirling of sticks, as Skye had said.

"Batons," Jemma corrects off-handedly, and Fitz takes a moment to frown. Aren't circus folk supposed to be an uneducated lot? This Lady Star-Spangles didn't seem very uneducated in his opinion. "But yes. They dated for a little while, even got married, but then.." it's then that she gives a light shrug, casting her gaze over to Hunter and Mack, who are still downing drinks easily, "something went wrong. They got a divorce - and it wasn't an easy split. It was messy, they fought for days. Eventually Coulson had to put a stop to it, and as a result Hunter left the band. There's nothing worse than being stuck in a room alone with those two."

"And what about the others? Coulson and that woman from yesterday."

"You mean May?" Jemma looks slightly surprised when Skye nods earnestly. Fitz didn't think she'd been expecting Skye to be so into the circus life. If he was being completely honest, he hadn't been expecting it either. While Skye was brilliant and determined and brave, she just didn't really seem to throw herself into work willingly.

"Well, no one really knows about May," she begins slowly, almost as if she's unsure to spill on details about the mysterious woman. "Coulson recruited her solely to be a driver, at first."

"A driver?" Skye interrupts, looking puzzled.

"It's a travelling circus, Skye," Jemma smiles, although not unkindly. "How do you think we get around?" At Skye's 'oh' face, she laughs lightly (it's more of a titter than anything) and continues on. "So yeah. She was just the driver. But then one of our lead acts fell and broke his spinal cord. They said he could never perform again. So she stepped in. Her stage-name's the Calvary - although she hates being called that. She's one of the very best, a contortionist and an acrobat. She has her own act." At this, she gets a special gleam in her eyes. "We think Coulson has a soft spot for her."

"And Coulson?" Skye prompts. She's drinking everything in, Fitz nods with a tinge of bitterness. Why is she showing so much interest?

"Phil Coulson was always Fury's favourite," Jemma says, more than happy to elaborate. "He's never really done an act before, but apparently he's a top magician. At any rate, what he does now is run the circus. He has the most vital role - the one of ringleader. In fact, he's rarely around anymore. He's too busy taking care of circus matters."

Fitz isn't totally sure what compels him to speak next. Maybe it's because she's explained so much about the others. Maybe it's because he wants make a good impression. Maybe it's because he wants to hold off on getting to work. "What about you? Who are you in the circus?"

"Me?" She looks taken aback, before she shakes her head. "Oh, I'm nothing special. Just another performer."

_Or maybe it's because she's intriguing,_ a small voice whispers in the back of his mind.

He banishes that thought from his mind quickly.


	2. Fairytale

_chasing after you is like a fairytale, but I,_

_feel like I'm glued on tight to this carousel_

He has to admit, the work at the circus isn't _too_ taxing. Or taxing at all, actually. In fact, his co-worker (Mack, wasn't it?) is actually pretty good at his job, so far as Fitz has seen. Nothing's been jolted beyond repair, and so far nobody's been completely rude to him - although that Grant Ward seems weirdly distant. If he's being completely honest, the work is almost easy. Especially for a brilliant mind like him (and then there's the fact that he's always been good with his hands), it's relatively simple.

But of course, he's not going to tell Skye this, not when she'd happily crow a triumphant '_I told you so_' in his face the very moment she got the chance. So instead, he grumbles and groans and complains while she sits on a box and watches.

As they'd both very quickly learned, Skye isn't the best at this kind of business. Tools fall out of her fingers, and simple instructions fly out of her mind as quickly as they go in. After much frustration they'd eventually decided that it was better if she just contented herself to watching.

So this is where they are now, him doing all the hard work while she watches and playfully pokes fun at him.

They're just having a teasing discussion over where she'd misplaced the screwdriver when they get a visitor.

Hovering almost tentatively at the door is Jemma, looking as graceful as ever (although she's ditched the coat and stands in her full costume instead). She looks rather odd, as her hair is wet and half done-up, and her face is half filled with make-up.

"Hello," she greets politely as she lets the tent flap fall shut behind her. "How are you going?"

"Just fine, thanks," Fitz answers tightly, exactly at the same time as Skye groans, "Ugh, horribly! I can't do anything and he's driving me nuts!"

Jemma looks amused, and she makes her way forward carefully to peer at his work. "Hmm.." she clicks her teeth thoughtfully, before reaching behind her to grab the screwdriver (so that's where it had been hiding!) and reaching over to him.

"Uh, actually," he starts, but before he can properly protest she's slipping the object from his hands and frowning at it. Then in one smooth movement she adjusts something, and just like magic it's fixed.

For a few moments, Fitz and Skye just gape at her.

"Woah," Skye exclaims finally, her lips broadening into a huge grin. "How'd you do that? We were stuck on that for hours!"

"Just luck, I guess," Jemma shrugs, but she flushes and averts her eyes and there's something distinctly suspicious in her gaze that Fitz notes but doesn't care to comment on.

"I was just about to do that," he retorts bitingly. He's angry. He doesn't want to admit it, but Fitz is admittedly rather angry. Jealous, even. How is it that a simple circus girl has shown him up? Fitz has worked hard to get to the position he's in now. Many days had been spent scraping up enough money to attend proper schools. He's always prided his ingenuity as the one thing he's truly proud of, the one thing he can show off, and then.. and then some dancer tears it all away from him.

Honestly, it hurts.

"I'm sorry," Jemma says nervously, clearly bewildered. "I mean, I didn't mean to do anything-"

"Don't you have a show to be getting to?" Fitz cuts in rudely, turning away from her and Skye to roughly tidy his things up.

"I.." she's clearly at a loss for things to say, and in his peripheral vision he sees her close her mouth abruptly. "I'm sorry. I - yes, I'd better go now."

It's silent as she scurries away, until rustling signifys the tent flap falling closed.

"What was that for?" Skye demands sharply.

He doesn't know.

...

That night, he and Skye argue on the walk home.

"You didn't have to be so rude," Skye accuses (and rightfully so, although Fitz will never tell her that). "Jemma was just trying to help!"

"_Jemma_," Fitz snaps back quickly, hoisting his bag higher up on his shoulder, "was just trying to show off! I could have finished that project off easily myself, you know I could have!"

"Oh, because you need to steal the glory and fame for every little thing," Skye shoots back at him, rolling her eyes as if everything is all his fault and he's ruined everything. When he didn't do a bloody thing wrong. "She was being genuine!"

"I don't steal the glory and fame for anything," he shoots back just as furiously. Heads begin to turn (because while he is good at quite a lot of things, having a row quietly is not one of them) and whispers begin to stir, so he hastens his pace and wishes that home was closer to the circus, or that he'd driven his car so he could slam the door angrily and leave Skye fuming in the dust.

Unfortunately there's no car, and Skye keeps right on his tail and lets out a bitter laugh, although her eyes are still blazing with fury. "Oh, yeah? This is coming from Leopold Fitz, right? Award winner, the little boy that everyone fawns over? Do you remember back when we were seven and you took the credit for our project!?"

Fitz doesn't bother to look back at her as they suddenly reach the right building. He flings open the door and hurries up the stairs, suddenly wishing that the flat was several stories lower. "That was an accident and you know it!" he throws behind his shoulder.

"What if we get fired from the circus?" Skye demands, still hot on his trails. He curses slightly as he stumbles on the corner of the stairs - he's never been particuarly graceful anyway.

"Then you'll have to get over it, won't you?" And finally, here's the right floor. Quickly, he fumbles through his bag for the keys to their (regretfully) shared apartment. It's times like this where he really wishes he had never decided to flat with Skye.

"And what if I don't want to?" she declares defiantly.

Fitz finally locates his keys and quickly throws the door open once he's successfully unlocked it. Biting his lip angrily, he doesn't say anything, instead shouldering his way into the apartment.

"I really like the circus, Fitz," Skye says quietly, following after him. For a split second, he thinks that she might even be crying.

"Then go by yourself," he snaps all of a sudden. "Just like you were back then. Alone just like you were at the orphanage."

He knows he's crossed a line, he knows he's gone too far, but he doesn't apologise. Instead, he storms into his room and leaves her standing in the hallway with tears in her eyes.

...

Barely three hours later, when it's storming outside and the skies are dark as charcoal, he crawls back out to apologise.

Skye's curled up on the couch with a bowl of soup by her side and the TV running. The lights are on and everything's cheerful enough, but she's not watching the TV. Instead, her focus is on the object in her fingers, which she keeps twirling around and around.

When Fitz gets closer, he sees that it's a figurine. A tiny little metal elephant, with fabric on it's back. It almost reminds him of a monopoly piece, except for the fact that it's more detailed and almost worn out.

"I'm sorry," he says straight-off. He had been mad and irrational and unreasonable, and he knows that he had crossed a very strong line with Skye that had always been very touchy. The orphanage. He is one of the very few to know that Skye has a fear of being alone. He thinks it has something to do with the orphanage. Something to do with being abandoned as a baby. Something to do with the fact that no one had adopted her. Every foster home had sent her back eventually. She'd made friends and lost them. She was afraid of being alone, she was afraid of being abandoned again.

"It's okay," she shrugs, her voice carefully non-plussed. But Fitz notes that she doesn't look up from the elephant. "I'm sorry too."

"Skye.."

He's cut off when she snaps her head to look up at him, and he sees her eyes are red-rimmed. "I really like the circus," she repeats again, but this time she's more determined about it. Her fingers curl around the elephant and she continues, "like, I really enjoy it. I feel like it's somewhere I could really belong, you know? The people are really nice and everyone's kind of a misfit, so, I mean.."

"You're not a misfit," Fitz interjects, his eyes widened a fraction in surprise.

"I _am_ a misfit," Skye insists forcefully, "and that's okay. I don't care. Maybe I even find it fun sometimes. But at the circus, I fit in. I fit in and I have fun and it's like.. well, I don't know." She shrugs, looking at a loss for words. Then, she unfurls her fingers from the figurine and holds it out for him to see. "Jemma gave me this. She said it was a welcome gift. All new joiners get some sort of gift."

"Why haven't I gotten one?" he says before he can help himself.

"I think maybe you were too busy yelling at her for that to happen," Skye returns drily, and Fitz suddenly feels guilty. He wants to tell her that he's sorry again, but she's already talking. "So anyway. This made me.. I don't know, feel really welcome."

Fitz just nods, because she's left a gap for him to say something but he's got no clue what to say.

"The point is," Skye continues momentarily, "I really like the circus. And I want to stay with them for as long as possible. So please." At this she offers him a small trademark Skye-smirk. "Try to let me keep my job."

There's a pause before Fitz finally nods, offering her a smile in return. "Okay."

"And that means you have to apologise to Jemma," Skye adds all too seriously.

There's yet another pause, but he dips his head again. "Yeah."

"Great."

And then it's like everything is back to normal again because they're both scrambling to the fridge in a race to see who can get the ice cream, only to they spill the soup in the process and end up spending the rest of their night washing soup stains and stealing ice cream.

...

The next day, Skye makes him promise to apologise to Jemma. He agrees (she's somehow figured out how to use puppy eyes on him) albeit reluctantly and runs over the words he's planning to say on the walk over. For some reason, it's a lot more nerve-wracking than apologising to Skye, even though their fight had been bigger (and in his opinion, more important. After all, what was a circus girl in comparison to his best friend?).

In the end, he just ends up attempting to avoid Jemma. It's surprisingly difficult, despite the fact that the circus is so big and there are so many people bustling around. She keeps walking past or coming up to talk to someone he's standing close to, and every time he tries to inconspicuously sneak away.

Unfortunately, luck never quite seems to run his way. He's working in another one of the tents again, with Skye perching on a crate to watch. He's just explaining the skeleton base of his latest side project (which she's clearly uninterested in, but he just needs to tell someone) when she catches the time and slides off the crate abruptly.

"I've gotta go," she declares far too casually, and he can see that her eyes are shifting nervously. Something's up, and he knows it. Fitz isn't (nor ever will be) stupid, and he can clearly tell when something sneaky is happening right under his nose. He's about to call her out on it like the horrible friend he is when he suddenly reasons that she must have an important reason for keeping it from him, and snaps his mouth shut.

"Okay," he nods, and suddenly the tent is silent save for the faint commotion outside and the sounds of his own movements.

And then he hears the rustling of a tent flap, and then Jemma is hovering anxiously by the entrance, looking apologetic. "Sorry," she says quickly, as if the words are spilling out of her mouth, "I was just coming to get Skye."

All apologies and previous jealousy evaporates as Fitz suddenly gives Jemma a sharp look. "Get Skye? What do you need her for?"

She suddenly looks like a deer caught in the headlights, and she cringes obviously. Her body sways in an exaggerated fashion of normalness and she offers a far too bright smile. "Oh.. um... nothing," she scoffs nervously. "Forget I said anything. Anything at all. Nothing."

When he continues to stare her down, she gestures to his work quickly. "What- what are you working on?"

Envy floods back again and before he can help it the words spill out of his mouth, "I don't know, Jemma, why don't you tell me?"

Her name feels odd in his mouth, he reflects as she flinches and takes an instinctive step back. "I'm sorry about that," she rushes to apologise, "I never intended to-"

"It's fine," Fitz interrupts quickly. It's weird, how she's so eager to apologise when it hadn't ever really been her fault in the first place. Really, it's his own fault - something that's rather hard to admit. He's always found it ridiculously difficult to say sorry to anyone but his mother. And maybe Skye.

"Oh, but-" Jemma continues hastily, and this time Fitz has to add more force to his words.

"No, really. It's okay." He doesn't look up from his work, but he sneaks a glance just to gauge her reaction. She looks oddly nervous, her hands twisting around and around. It's uncharacteristically different from the Lady Star Spangles he saw that one night at the circus. Somehow, he's always imagined her as the type of woman who would be bold and courageous and daring.

He doesn't say sorry (did he mention he was no good at apologies?), but the air stills and everything is peaceful for just a second and he knows that Jemma got his apology without needing the use of words.

...

That night, Fitz and Skye decide to make a treat of it and stop by the local bar to get some dinner. Besides, they both know that there's nothing to eat back at home except for canned soup and a quarter of a tub of neapolitan (neapolitan because both of them constantly war between strawberry and chocolate) ice cream.

They sit at the bar and get several free drinks because the bartender's got an eye for Skye. Fitz ultimately finds that this is the perfect time to get down to business and interrogate his friend. "So, what were you actually doing when you had to mysteriously disappear?"

She laughs and beckons for another drink, her fingers tapping on the side of the glass. If Fitz didn't know her better, he'd think that everything was normal. But unfortunately he does, so he notices when she oh-so-subtly refuses to look him in the eye. "Bathroom," she answers airily, "When you gotta go, you gotta go, right?"

"Skye.." he frowns at her and suddenly she cracks, deflating suddenly.

"Okay, okay," she relents, looking at him nervously. "I was sneaking off to do something else. The thing was, Coulson saw me messing around the other day and he said that I had a lot of potential!" Her eyes light up in obvious excitement. "And then he asked whether I would be interested in taking some lessons and I never thought so I said yes so he put me up with Grant Ward - you know that really grumpy but insanely cute one - and I've been taking a few lessons from him and-"

"Skye!" Fitz put his hands up in a mock sign of surrender, offering her a small smile. While Fitz can normally handle Skye's childish excitedness (most of the time, anyway) it's pretty hard to try and understand anything when she's talking in unfiltered streams of excited babble. "Breathe, please."

"Right. Sorry," Skye nods finally, calming down quickly although there's still an enthusiastic gleam in her eyes. "But yeah, you heard what I said, right? I was just.. afraid to tell you, I guess. I know that you're not keen on the circus and I thought that I might be blocking you off or betraying you if I told you I was taking lessons. I mean, you're pretty much my only friend, and I'll stop if you want me to, but.." she shrugs sheepishly up at him.

For a moment, he's touched that she had thought so much about him. And then he's kind of gutted, if he's honest. After all, she's afraid that if she does what she wants, if she follows her dream that he'll disown her. Does she really take him to be like that?

So he smiles and shakes his head quickly. "No! Do what you want, I'll still be here, right? If the circus interests you, then yeah, go for it. Have fun, Skye," he grins at her.

Skye's features collapse into one of happy relief, and she offers a similar grin in return. "Thanks, Fitz."

And as the waitress finally arrives and shoots Skye a flirty wink, Fitz begins to feel the icy iron claw of selfishness curl over his heart. He shouldn't be like this, he should be proud of Skye!

But the simple truth is, Leopold Fitz has never had many friends. And Skye? Well, she's kind of the only one he's got. What if she decides to up and join the circus?

Skye's words from the other day echo ominously in his mind.

_Anyway, it's a travelling circus._

_They won't hang around forever._

_You'll be free of them in no time._

_Well, good riddance, _his mind dispels the thought instantly_, they're a bloody pain in the arse, the lot of them!_

_But what if Skye decides to go with them? _whispers the other part of his brain. _Then who will you be? Just poor little Fitzy; always by his lonesome._


End file.
